


Turbulent Spaces

by CKBookish



Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Broken Bones, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce is an idiot, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Gen, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, In this house we support our siblings, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd is a good brother, but we love him anyway, editing?? I don't know her, or we will in chapter two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25468597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: “Sorry to cut the race short...I’ll see you next week?”Jason looked down at his newly wrapped hand, and wondered if he dared to try and drive home with it.Dick hadn’t moved.  He sat stock still in front of him.  “Don’t be an idiot, I’m coming with you.”Jason’s head whipped around to look at Dick.  “You’re?”Dick chuckled.  “Littlewing, I’m not going to leave you alone.”  He’s smile faded and he added,   “Plus B won’t be there.”Dick returns to the Manor for the first time after he's fired by Bruce.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752508
Comments: 164
Kudos: 589





	1. It's Just a House

**Author's Note:**

> Okay friends, buckle up this is going to be a long authors note. 
> 
> First: There is slight DESCRIPTION OF INJURY in this and some VOMIT. Nothing super graphic, but I just want you to know before you get started. 
> 
> Second: I haven't been super clear but I write my own epigraphs (little poem thing at the top) unless I say other wise in the Epigraph itself or in the Author's not. So I've written pretty much all of them but two that were used in Atlas Shrugged. Now I know you may not care or want to read them anyway, that's fine. I just didn't realize people didn't know I was writing them, and I do spend a bit of time writing them specifically for each story, so I just wanted you to know. 😉
> 
> Third: I hope you enjoy! and I love to hear from you all!

Home isn’t a word I ever use

I go back to my place

Have food at my apartment

Store my things in this space

But it’s just four walls, a shell I sleep in. 

No, I haven’t said home in a long time.

* * *

Jason didn’t look before he leapt. That tended to be his problem. Bruce had chided him numerous times for it, but he couldn’t be caught. He _needed_ to get there first. So, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going; he didn’t focus on where his feet fell. Jason knew this place like the back of his hand. This was _his_ neighborhood. He grew up on these streets. There was absolutely no way he was going to get to Batburger last. 

He was _almost_ there. He knew a short cut. Just up over Rachel’s nail bar and a quick turn at Gotham’s First Bank, and he’d be there. He just needed to run past Arthur the gargoyle and turn left. Jason was at the top of his favorite roof— the best roof in Gotham in his opinion. It had the best view of the bay, the best nooks to read in, and it had Arthur— a funny stone figure with a scraggly tooth. He was comfortable here, which was probably why it happened at all. 

His ankle caught the top lip of the roof, and down he tumbled. His stomach dropped suddenly, as he fell. 

“Robin!” A voice cried somewhere behind him. 

Jason howled as he went down. Where there had once been a roof was now only open air. The sound of Nightwing shouting after him was drowned out by his own voice. A dark shadow was on his left. He reached blindly for it. 

Jason grabbed at Arthur. His index, middle and ring finger caught in a crook of folded stone. His pinky however, smashed against the hard rock. Even with the padding of his glove he was moving too fast. 

His vision went white as the bone snapped. He didn’t even have time to worry about hauling himself up before Dick was beside him.

Jason hardly registered the hands that wrapped around his waist hauling him back to the safety of sold ground. 

The second hands released him, Jason folded in on himself. His head felt wrong. His body was shaking. While his hand hurt, it wasn’t that bad. So why did he feel so… wrong. Like he needed to be as small as possible. He wanted to sink into the roof and become one with the gargoyles. It wouldn’t be so bad; just to be an old water decorative spout. 

His hand throbbed and shook. He risked a glance at it. Then rather wished he hadn’t. Even inside his glove he could tell his finger was going the wrong way. 

“Robin.” Dick’s voice sounded like it was far away, like he was deep under water.

Jason blinked. He was shaking. Glancing down again, all the blood drained from Jason’s face. He was going to be sick. Dick must have realized this too, for he was suddenly forcing Jason’s head back down. The splat of Jason’s dinner hitting the roof, was almost enough to make him sick again. Dick stood rubbing Jason’s back with one hand and pushing his bangs away from his face with the other. 

“It’s okay, Robin. Just let it all up,” Nightwing murmured.

“Dick?” Jason felt slightly better now that there was nothing churning in his gut.

“Littlewing, you’re okay. Where are you hurt?”

Jason held out his hand tentatively. Dick wouldn’t hurt him. Jason knew that, but it still felt like he was exposing himself. Never let someone see you hurt. Jason knew better than that. But something about Dick’s expression made him offer it anyway. Dick was still slowly rubbing between his shoulder blades. 

Nightwing let out a low whistle, tugging off Jason's glove gently. “Yeah that looks like it hurts.” 

Jason kept his mouth firmly shut. Dick’s examination of his pinky left him feeling the need to retch again. Though he was determined not to. Dry heaves were worse than being sick, and Jason knew he had nothing left to bring up. 

Jason wondered sometimes if Dick could read minds. He was suddenly pulling Jason down and away from the puddle of sick on the roof. Sitting was nice Jason decided. He hadn’t realized how wobbly his legs had been. Jason let his eyes fall closed. _Just for a moment_ , he thought. _Just until the world stops spinning_. He could feel Dick pulling out things from his belt. 

_Nightwing should carry more supplies_ , said a voice that sounded oddly like Bruce tugged at the back of his mind. Jason opened his eyes to tell Dick this, but he was interrupted from saying so as two white pills were pressed to his lips. It took a whole two seconds for Jason to realize what Dick wanted and open his mouth. A water bottle quickly took the place of the pills. 

Jason’s stomach lurched as the pills settled but they didn’t come up again. He felt rather _fuzzy_. He couldn’t focus on what was happening. Dick was doing something to his hand. It hurt. But it felt like it was happening to someone else. Jason wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Why did he feel like his head was full of sawdust. 

“Sorry, Bud. I know. I know.” Dick muttered every few seconds to him.

Jason frowned, was that him making that sniffling noise?

“Dick?” Jason muttered to the blue bird on Dick’s chest. 

“Yeah, Littlewing?”

“I think I need to go home.” He said his eyes fixed on the bird of Nightwing’s uniform

The words hung suspended between them. Jason dared a glance up at Dick’s face. It was impassive and blank. Jason knew his mind was going a thousand miles an hour. Jason had only seen Nightwing panic a handful of times, but it was always the same. He would go completely still as if one move would lead to an attack. It usually happened when Bruce was around. It was the stiffness in Dick’s arms and chest that made him decide against asking. It was too soon, Dick wasn’t ready. 

Even though Jason knew Bruce was trying. The man still seemed unable to navigate the odd waters that lay between him and his eldest son. Jason did his best to not show his irritation at the two of them. Well not too Dick anyway. He was far too skittish. So he carefully arranged his face, he wouldn’t force Dick out of pity. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself anyway. He had done it for years. The fact that Bruce and Alfred were gone for the night meant nothing. Jason was perfectly capable of dealing with things. He had gone soft, been spoiled by Alfred and Bruce’s mollycoddling. 

“Sorry to cut the race short...I’ll see you next week?”

Jason looked down at his newly wrapped hand, and wondered if he dared to try and drive home with it. 

Dick hadn’t moved. He sat stock still in front of him. “Don’t be an idiot, I’m coming with you.”

Jason’s head whipped around to look at Dick. “You’re?”

Dick chuckled. “Littlewing, I’m not going to leave you alone.” He’s smile faded and he added, “Plus B won’t be there.” 

Jason thought Dick sounded unsure of himself. In all the time Jason had been Robin, Dick refused to even set foot in the Batcave. With Alfred and Bruce out of town, maybe just maybe this would be the start of Dick actually coming around. Maybe if he could get used to being there with just him, adding the others wouldn’t be as hard. 

“Okay.” Jason said finally. 

Dick decided to leave the R-cycle in the city and forced Jason to sit in front of him on his bike as they made their way back to the cave. Jason couldn’t decide if it was more embarrassing to be sat in front while Nightwing steered or comforting, as he could lean back against his brother's chest and not have to worry about flailing off the back. 

Jason was much too tired to notice the way Dick became more tense the closer they came to the Batcave. 

* * *

Dick did his best to focus on the small boy radiating heat sitting in front of him rather than the fact he was going back...not _home_. It was just the manor, just the cave now in his mind. He rather wanted to throw up himself. He hadn’t been back to the cave or inside the manor since that night. A year and nine months, a sad voice supplied in the back of his mind. It felt like a lifetime. All thoughts of his rather terrible day were driven from his mind by a new panic, a new fear. 

As much as Dick missed and thought about going back it was something he never had allowed himself, even now that he and Bruce were talking again, all be it rather limited. It was too… personal. He had poured himself out behind those walls, and been turned away. Going back always seemed like he would be saying it was forgiven, forgotten the rift between them. It wasn’t. Not completely anyway. Dick didn’t think it ever would be. 

Jason stirred in front of him as Dick turned the bike into the hidden crevice that admitted them into the first of the set caves that was Batman’s lair. 

“Dick?” Jason’s hair brushed Dick’s chin as he tilted his head up to look at him.

“Yeah?” 

“You don’t have to stay… Not if you don’t want to.” 

Dick turned again; the next turn would be the cavern. The place he still had nightmares about. The place his world had imploded. “I know.”

Jason didn’t say anything else as Nightwing pulled smoothly to a stop. 

Dick wasn’t sure what he expected. The cave looked like... the cave. The Batmobile was still parked where it had always been. Bats fluttered causing shadows to move and fall at odd angles on the floor and walls. Dick swung off the bike and pulled Jason off after him. _Focus on Jay. Focus on Robin._

Dick frog marched Jason over to the medical bay. He yanked the medical cabinet open just slightly too hard. The pill bottles rattled inside the cabinet. He began rummaging for anti-inflammatory medicines and a sling. The labels were written in Alfred’s looped and slanted writing. Dick felt his eyes burn. 

The taste of cooper filled his mouth. Dick quickly unclenched his jaw and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to bite it. He turned to the sink and forced his mouth under the tap. When it was full he swirled the water around and spat it back out. He watched the pink water spin in the drain until it was gone. 

“Dick?” Jason was looking at him with wide eyes.

He was scared, Dick realized. Jason was afraid that Dick was going to change his mind and leave him alone.

“Come on let’s take care of that hand.” Dick said grabbing a sling.

Jason hopped up onto the counter silently, leaving his legs dangling in the air. 

Dick pulled out a bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen and handed Jason a single pill. He was still small. Dick didn’t want to give him a full dose. “Here, that will help with the swelling. The stuff I gave you earlier kill the pain?” 

Jason nodded, his eyes still watching Dick carefully. 

Dick turned to pull a water bottle from the mini-fridge when he realized it wasn’t by the sink. He swayed slightly as he stopped mid-step. 

Jason didn’t comment on his confusion as Dick changed trajectory choosing to use a clean glass on the counter rather than find a chilled water bottle-- from a fridge that was no longer there. 

Dick wondered what other changes had been made over the time he hadn’t been here. Would the keyboard still stick on the w key? Would the bats still whistle back when he sang to them? 

“Dick?” Jason’s voice pulled Dick back from his spiraling thoughts. 

“Yeah, here.” Dick filled the glass quickly and thrust it into Jason’s outstretched hand. 

“How about we watch a movie?” Jason said slowly.

Dick nodded. He could do that. 

Jason slid off the counter and started toward the changing rooms. Dick watched his retreating back, unsure if he should follow him. Jay might need help, he decided. 

It turned out Jason needed a lot of help, he couldn’t get the clasps of the tunic undone with one hand. It would come with practice Dick thought before he realized what that would mean. 

Dick didn’t want Jason to have practice using only one hand to change out of his uniform. That would mean he was injured and alone. Dick swallowed. _No,_ he wouldn’t let that happen. Dick didn’t care how he and Bruce were. Jason didn’t deserve to _ever_ feel that. Dick had spent enough times struggling to pull off his uniform one handed and in pain to know how much it sucked. 

After Jason was dressed in sweats and a baggy t-shirt and had the sling elevating his hand, he looked at Dick expectantly. 

“What?” Dick asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably under the weight of Jason’s stare. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Jason’s eyebrow’s knit together.

“I mean, what are you looking at me like that for?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything. I’m waiting for you to hurry up and change so we can go upstairs.” Jason snapped at him. He was still pale from all the moving of his hand to get dressed. 

Dick flinched. He didn’t want to, didn’t mean to. He knew Jason didn’t mean to point out how out of place he was-- how unwelcome.

“Dick?” Jason’s voice was suddenly soft, barely a whisper.

“I don’t have anything to change into.” Dick looked down at the blue bird on his chest apprehensively. 

Jason looked at him, his mouth slightly agape. “Oh.”

Dick gave a small smile. “It’s fine. We’ll just make sure I don’t answer the doorbell.”

Dick picked up Jason’s uniform and turned to place it neatly in the laundry basket. When he turned back, Jason had a pair of black sweats and a turtleneck draped over his uninjured arm. Dick’s body went rigged. 

“Here, you can wear these.” Jason pressed the clothing to his chest. 

Dick wanted to push it back. He didn’t _want_ to wear _Bruce’s_ things. But the smell of laundry soup hit him before he could say so. 

The words died in his throat. Memories of Bruce dumping far too much power in the machine floored him. He never got it right. No matter how many times Alfred showed him. Dick wondered if Bruce still would flood the laundry room once a month, while trying to be helpful. 

Somehow his hands closed around the offered clothes. 

The pants were too long and he had to tie the drawstring to keep the waistband from slipping. The shirt was baggy. But it was soft and smelled of soup and aftershave.

Dick hated it. 

Jason didn’t seem to notice his discomfort though. He just snorted at how ridiculous he looked in Bruce’s borrowed things. 

But at least-- Dick supposed-- it was more comfortable than lounging in his Nightwing uniform. 

So Dick found himself walking up the stone steps-- past the place where Bruce had told him to get out. He stepped through the clock and into the manor. He didn’t look around; he kept his eyes fixed on Jason as he led him up into the house. When Jason turned out of the study to the left, Dick halted.

“Jay, you need an ice pack.” Dick hated that he knew the kitchen was the other way. 

Jason spun on the hardwood floor around too quickly, and stumbled. Dick flew forward reaching for his waist rather than shoulders, too afraid to jostle his broken finger. 

“Never mind.” Dick said once Jason was steady again. “Let's get you sat down. I’ll get one for you in a bit.”

The walk to the living room was torture. He walked past no less than seven photographs with him and Bruce in them. Jason sank gratefully onto the sofa when they reached the living room, and looked as if he wouldn’t be getting up on his own any time soon. Dick glanced around involuntarily. The couch and sofa were in the same place, as was the coffee table and armchair. The TV had been updated and a number of new games littered the floor in front of it. 

“What do you want to watch?” Jason asked.

Dick shrugged. He didn’t think anything would make him feel more comfortable. “Why don’t you pick and I’ll grab an ice pack for you.”

Jason frowned but picked up the remote and began flicking through films. 

The walk to the kitchen wasn’t as bad. He moved quicker without Jason in front of him. He barely registered the new counter tops or the upgraded coffee maker. No, Dick was back in the living room faster than Jason could pick a movie. Dick tried not to think about how he had remembered exactly where the ice packs were in the freezer without looking or how he automatically knew to avoid the uneven floorboard next to the coffee table. 

Instead he forced himself to appear immersed in the cartoon Jason had put on. It wasn’t odd to sit here, on the same sofa that Bruce had sat up all night with him the first time he had been sick at the manor. It wasn’t strange to listen to the gears of the old cuckoo clock spin on the far wall. It most definitely wasn’t unnerving to be surrounded by the smell of his fath-- no. Bruce had never been that. Dick glanced at Jason. Bruce was Jason’s father. He had picked Jason. Dick was-- had only been-- a temporary placeholder.


	2. Dancing on the Needle's Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went from a one shot, to two chapters, to three. Someone needs to stop underestimating their word counts. That someone is me.
> 
> As always, I love and cherish all of your comments, kudos and bookmarks!!!

You don’t feel welcome here

and I don’t know how to tell you it’s okay to stay.

My heart will continue to plead

please, can you stay?

* * *

Jason fell asleep within fifteen minutes of the movie starting. Dick watched the animations move across the screen without really seeing them. Jason lay drooling with his head lolling on Dick’s shoulder and his body sprawled over Dick’s legs. In short Dick was trapped unless he wanted to either wake Jason or risk hurting his hand by moving him. 

So Dick just stared at the TV unseeingly. When the movie finished Dick didn’t even notice. He was almost asleep himself-- in a weird half awake, too uncomfortable to fully relax state. 

The ring was what pulled Dick from his stupor. Panicking that the sound would wake Jason, Dick lunged forward-- careful not to dislodge Jason-- and snatched up the phone from Jason’s lap. Dick took one look at the screen, panicked more and swiped to answer.

“Bruce.” Dick said evenly, as if the name didn’t taste sour on his tongue, as if his heart was racing a thousand miles a minute. 

There was just a beat of silence, where Dick knew if he could see Bruce’s face he would see a bewildered look of surprise. 

“Dick?” The man asked slowly.

Dick did his best not to focus on the disbelief in Bruce’s voice. “Yep. Jay’s asleep.”

“I didn’t expect you to-- are you-- is everything okay?” Bruce was panicking now. 

Dick recognized the tone of voice. It was his, what’s wrong with Robin voice. Dick tried to not be too bitter about that. After all he was worried about Jason too. “Yeah, were okay. Jason broke his pinky though, so we called it an early night and watched a movie.”

Bruce was moving something on his side of the line. Dick could hear the faint sound of soft thuds and rustling of papers. 

“Is he okay? Was it a bad break?”

Dick blinked. “Um no. He’ll be fine. I set it in the field and he has it elevated and iced, on and off. I’ve been keeping track so it’s not on him too long.” Dick wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell Bruce this. He had treated broken bones in the past. Bruce knew that Dick was competent. Well he used to think that at least. 

“I’m coming to get him now. I’ll be at your place in less than thirty minutes.” Bruce shouted something to someone on the other side of the phone-- probably Alfred. “Thank you for--”

“Bruce,” Dick felt a stone drop in his gut. “We’re not at my place.”

The silence felt heavy. 

“I.. Don’t. Where are you?” Bruce must have stopped moving. There were no more hurried footsteps.

Dick could imagine him mapping out the route to Leslie's clinic, the hospital, maybe even titan’s tower. “We’re at the Manor.” 

Dick steeled himself for the fall out. 

_Get out and don’t come back_.

The sentence that had haunted him for over a year. Bruce was silent, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to break it. 

“We’ll be there in forty minutes.” 

Dick hung up. His heart was racing. How had he been so stupid? Bruce was going to be so mad. He had been told to never come back. He should have taken Jason to his place in Bludhaven, or Barbara’s or literally _anywhere_ else. Taking care of Jason didn’t mean breaking the uneasy truce he and Bruce had made. It took months for Batman to acknowledge Nightwing. It took Dick half a year to be welcomed back to Gotham. The manor was going too far, the cave too far. 

They were places for partners, teammates, and family. Dick was none of that. He was just… What was he?

Deciding that it was better to wake Jason and scram before Bruce could shout him all the way into next year, Dick shook Jason lightly.

“Jason. Hey man.”

“Hrn?” Jason muttered, scrunching his nose at Dick.

“I need you to let me up. Then we’ll get you in your bed.” Dick would tuck him in and leave a note. He could avoid Bruce’s wrath if he just could move fast enough.

“I’m comfy.” 

“Jay, you need to go to bed. Real bed and I need to head out.”

That got Jason up. His eyes flashed open suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

Dick winced when Jason sat up too quickly and smacked his elbow on the back of the sofa. His eyes filled with tears as he jarred his finger. “Nothing’s wrong. B’s going to be here soon.” 

Jason swung his legs around so that Dick was able to stand up and swore. 

Dick felt his blood run cold. So even Jason knew he was unwelcome here. 

“I was meant to text him at eleven and totally forgot.” 

Dick tilted his head in confusion. So he _wasn’t_ worried about Dick having to leave? “He’s not going to care about that. You were a bit distracted.” Dick gestured to Jason’s arm. 

“You think?” Jason looked at him with wide blue eyes. 

“If anything he sounded like he was ready to wrap you in bubble wrap.” Dick smiled lightly. _Just get him moving. Then you can get out of here._ “Come on, bed.”

Dick thought he had made it. Jason was tucked in bed, with a cup of water and a second dose of painkillers and anti-inflammatories on his bedside table. Dick had even dug out a pile of instant ice packs. Dick was just a few hundred steps to freedom. He was almost to the clock, when the front door flew open with a bang. 

“Dick?” Bruce’s voice boomed in the silence of the manor. 

Dick froze. 

“Jason?” Bruce called into the quiet of the manor again, this time closer to the hall where Dick was standing stock still, unable to move. 

“Al, can you check if ther--” Bruce rounded the corner and spotted Dick. 

Dick suddenly understood how deer must feel on the road, terrified yet completely unable to stop their own demise. 

“Dick. I.. you look.” Bruce cast about as if trying to define just how Dick looked. Dick felt all too aware of his borrowed clothes. One of the sleeves took that moment to unroll and cover his hand. “I’ll wash and send them back. I didn’t have anything to wear and I well if someone showed up here…” Dick trailed off seeing Bruce’s puzzled expression.

“I don’t mind the clothes, Dick.” Bruce looked like he was choking slightly. “Are you--Do you— how’s Jay?”

Dick fought to keep his face straight. Bruce didn’t sound mad and if there was one thing Bruce would never be able to hide from the former Robin, it would be his anger. “He’s asleep.” 

Bruce nodded, his eyes glancing up as if he could see through the ceiling and see his son above them. “Thank you for looking after him.” 

Dick wondered if he would actually get away with it. He wasn’t being thrown bodily from the building for returning. Not that Bruce had ever done more than shout or glare. That was somehow worse though, because despite their falling out. Dick knew, Bruce was still a good man. He was a good dad. He just wasn’t Dick’s. Dick began to turn back towards the clock. He needed to get out of here before he lost his head and did something dumb, like pick a fight again, or cry. 

“Dick?” Bruce’s voice came out in a rush, just a Dick turned away. 

Mid step, Dick stopped.

“You’re bleeding.” 

Dick blinked. _He was? Where?_ His mind instantly began cataloging his body. His knee was sore but that was normal. His neck hurt from sitting funny, but nothing—absolutely nothing— hurt like a cut or flesh wound. “I’m fine.” 

“Your ear.” Suddenly Bruce was in front of him pulling out his pocket handkerchief. 

“Bruce, don’t Alf will have to wash—“ 

But Bruce had already pressed the silk to Dick’s ear. His eyes roamed his whole face. Whatever he found there he didn’t seem to like for his frown deepened.

“We should clean this.” Bruce jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, and somehow Dick found his feet obeying.

* * *

Bruce felt like his heart jumped to his throat the second he rounded the corner. Dick stood, eyes wide staring at him in disbelief. Bruce hoped that was what that look was-- it was far too similar to how he looked when he was afraid. But then Bruce deserved that didn’t he. He messed up what was the best thing in his life. And now his son-- ex ward, Bruce didn’t get to have the honor to call Dick that-- was looking at him like _that_. 

Bruce was still unsure how he could be so lucky; Dick hadn’t left at the sight of him. He was making his way to the kitchen with him. Bruce was grasping at straws he knew that. The cut on Dick’s ear was shallow, and had clotted. It wasn’t even really bleeding. 

Yet Dick followed him deeper into the house, and hopped onto a bar-stool. Bruce frowned at this. Dick always had gone for the counter. Bruce rummaged under the sink longer than was necessary. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid to talk and so avoiding it, or if he was simply trying to make the moment last as long as possible. It was as if Dick was radiating heat. Bruce hadn’t realized how cold the house was without him. Well he had, but he had grown used to it over the past year, nine months and fourteen days. 

Bruce turned back with the red medical box the size of a small child, and began --once again rather slowly-- rummaging for neosporin and a band aid. Bruce hated the silence. Dick never was so quiet. Bruce had forgotten how lonely silence was. Jason was often a quiet kid. Bruce often found himself turning on the radio just to fill the air with something, _anything_ . But that again was his fault, it _all_ was his fault. 

“How’s … er How are you?” Bruce asked after realizing it might come off as being judgmental to ask about work or Nightwing. 

Dick was sweating slightly, as Bruce applied the antibacterial cream to the shallow cut. “I’m fine.” Dick shifted under Bruce’s hands uncomfortably. “How are you?”

Bruce smiled. “I’m good. It’s… It’s nice to see you.” Bruce watched Dick’s eyebrows fold together. “Although I wish Jason wasn’t hurt.”

“I’m sorry. It was dumb.” Dick said in a single breath.

“What?” Bruce focused on the fact he was actually touching his-- ex-ward, focused on the fact that Dick was actually sitting in the manor’s kitchen, didn’t follow the apology. 

“It was my fault not Jason’s. I thought it would be fun to race to get Batburger. It was a slow night and I riled him up.” Dick wasn’t looking at him. Instead his eyes were fixed on a screw sticking out slightly from a chair leg. Bruce needed to fix that. Alfred might cut himself on it. “He-- it wasn’t his fault, okay?”

“Do you think-- Dick, I’m not mad.” Bruce fully hated this and the worst part was he had no right to complain. “Dick, I’m _sorry_.”

Dick held back a flinch, which was almost worse than seeing the look of fear on his face when he first came home. 

“I.. what are you sorry for?” Dick still wouldn’t look at him.

“For everything.” Bruce felt a lump forming over his tongue. He didn’t know how to do this. He felt sorry for saying so many things that Dick never deserved. He felt sorry that he made Dick think he had to shield Jason from his disappointment or anger. He felt sorry that he had ever hurt the boy in front of him. But sorry wasn’t strong enough a word. No word could convey the way he felt. 

Dick chuckled darkly and stood up. The stool topped as he went, falling to the floor with a crash. “Sure thing, B. Sorry for _everything_. Are you sorry you took me in?” Dick’s face was inches from him. His cheeks were growing redder by the second. “Sorry you spent a penny on raising me? Oh how about sorry you saved me from Harvey? Everything is a big word, Bruce.”

Bruce blanched, stepping back slightly. “No!” His voice cracked on the word. “I’m not for-- Dick. You’re the _best_ thing that ever happened to me. I would never. I… I messed us up and I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Bruce spoke without thinking in his panic and as soon as the words left his mouth he felt his face turn beat red. Now that the words were out there, he felt exposed. 

Dick’s eyes darted back and forth between Bruce’s as if looking for any hint of dishonesty. Bruce had never been more truthful in his life, not even Wonder Woman’s lasso could change what he said. 

“Ahem,” Alfred cleared his throat lightly in the doorway. “Master Bruce, perhaps you would like to go check on Jason. He woke up just a moment ago and was asking for you.”

Bruce felt like he was being ripped in two. Jason was hurt and needed him, but Dick was… he was _here_. Bruce took another small step back. Dick looked slightly ill. Bruce wanted nothing more than to grab his shoulders, push him onto a chair and force him to eat. He was too thin. His cheekbones were sharper than they had been when Alfred was cooking for him. “Will… Will you still be here, when I get back?”

Dick shuttered slightly. 

“No, that’s… That came out wrong. Will you stay until I get back?” Bruce held his breath trying to keep from hoping. 

“I.. don’t.--” Dick glanced at Alfred, as if for an escape route.

“I was thinking about putting the kettle on. Would you join me? Tea is always better when made in a pot, and it’s such a waste to make a pot for just me.”

Dick didn’t seem to know what to do or say. Alfred, blessed Alfred didn’t need him to answer. He quickly moved forward, righted the stool that had been knocked over and began pulling out tea cups. 

Bruce took the opportunity to slip into the hall, satisfied that Alfred would keep Dick there. For now at least. 


	3. Fumamblist on the Fraying Highwire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments I've had on this! You all are the best!

Do I risk this:

to transverse this space

filled with violent currents 

and cruel jet streams?

It’s a treacherous plane to walk o’er.

But on the other side, I’d have you.

* * *

Jason lay on his bed looking at the ceiling, debating whether he needed to just go down stairs himself but he could trust Alfred. Well-- he hoped he could. He hadn’t ever seen Dick and Alfred interact, and Dick never really talked about him. Well Dick never talked about anything related to Bruce, the house, the cave or anything that was even close to his past. The only insight he had on the time Dick spent at the manor was from what Bruce or Alfred said themselves. They both obviously missed Dick. 

The door to his room creaked open and Bruce poked his head inside. 

“Jaylad?” His voice was low as if hoping he was still asleep somehow. 

“Yeah.” Jason started to sit up, but Bruce rushed forward and pushed him back.

“Don’t you’re hurt. Just let me come to you.”

“It’s my  _ pinky _ , dad, not my ribs.” Jason still wasn’t used to how much Bruce and Alfred hovered over him. 

Bruce smiled down at him and sat on the edge of his bed. “Still. It’s got to hurt.”

Jason gave a halfhearted shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn't make this hurt any less.” Bruce said sagely, pushing Jason’s bangs back.

“Did Dick leave?” Jason glanced at the bedside table and saw all the supplies his brother had left for him. He felt bad. This was supposed to be a fun night and he had made Dick stressed while he was trying to take care of him. 

“No.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “He’s with Alfred.”

Jason wanted to jump up and run down stairs, but he knew Bruce would never allow it. “He… He said he wanted to… I didn’t think he’d stay for that long.”  _ Long enough to see you,  _ Jason wanted to say but didn’t. He ducked his head knowing that the admission would pain Bruce.

“He  _ was  _ leaving and-- Well, I panicked and tried to get him to stay.” Bruce was picking at his thumb nail as he spoke. 

“When you say panicked, do you mean you got angry. Because if you yelled at him, I may never forgive you.” Jason inspected Bruce carefully. He looked guilty, but of what exactly Jason couldn’t guess. Would he have heard shouting all the way on the third floor?

Bruce started and looked at Jason with wide eyes. “Jay, why do you say that? Why would I yell at him?”

Jason bit his lip. “He’s been… uncomfortable the whole time we’ve been here. It’s like he’s expected the floor to swallow him.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it. But if Bruce made him feel worse then well, he would have to put up with an unhappy Jason for a very long time. 

Bruce sighed and put his head in his hands. “I didn’t yell, but I don’t think I made it better either.”

“What did you say?”

“That I was sorry for everything and then he shouted about me being sorry for ever taking him in.” Bruce said peeking out between his fingers out Jason. 

Jason wanted to slap himself. These two idiots couldn’t be trusted alone for five minutes. He was right to have sent Alfred after them. “Bruce, you need to tell him more than just sorry for  _ everything _ . That’s too vague and feels empty. What did you--” 

Bruce frowned, sitting up again as Jason cut himself off. “Jay?”

There was a cold feeling in his gut. “What was the last thing you said to him?”

Bruce tilted his head. “I asked if he would still be downstairs when I came back from checking on you.”

“No. No.” Jason waved his hands dismissively. “What did you say, when he left?”

All the blood drained from Bruce’s face. 

“What did you do?” Jason wasn’t sure if he should feel resigned to the fact that the man who had taken him in was a complete moron, or be angry on Dick’s behalf. Right now the anger seemed to be winning out. 

“I said a lot-- I said a lot of terrible things, because I was scared.” Bruce wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jason slumped back into his pillows. “Well if you aren't going to tell me what you said. Do you at least remember exactly what it was?”

“Yes.” Bruce looked as if he had swallowed a lemon. “I don’t think it’s something that’s really possible to forget.”  
“Okay, good. You need to address that.” 

Bruce looked at Jason sadly. “I don’t know that--”

“Bruce!” Jason watched with a sort of sick satisfaction as Bruce recoiled slightly from him. “You are going to go back downstairs, and you are going to go back through everything you said to him and you are going to say your sorry and tell him how you really feel. This is not something you can blow off, or get out of. He is going to be mad and shout at you. He might not even believe you.” 

Bruce was looking pallor by the minute but Jason was running at full steam and kept going regardless of Bruce’s paler. Rather than look at his face, Jason’s gaze dropped down to his hands. It was easier than looking at the pain etched in his face. His hands were neatly clasped together in his lap. His thumb was bleeding slightly where he had been picking at it.. 

“He may hate you for a long time, and never come around to want to be your son for real, but if you don’t try then…” Jason took a deep breath. “You may as well consider your relationship lost for good. Because as it is, he  _ never  _ talks about you or Alfred, he doesn’t come to my games, because you're going to be there and he--” Jason hesitated for half a moment, unsure if it would be going too far. “He might die one day and you’ll  _ never  _ know about it.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat when he looked up from Bruce’s hands, still folded together in his lap. Tears were running down his face. Jason hadn’t meant to make him cry. Well maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought it would work.

“I know. Jay, I know.” Bruce reached out and brushed back Jason bangs again and gave him a very small watery smile. “You call if you need anything. I don’t want you getting up and wandering around looking for me or Alfred. Keep your hand elevated, yeah?”

Jason nodded but wasn’t sure he fully registered what Bruce was saying. He was transfixed on the faint lines the tears had left on Bruce’s face, even after he had wiped them away with his hand. Jason sat staring at the door long after Bruce had left. Maybe tomorrow he would demand they get ice cream. He had broken a bone, he could probably guilt Bruce into a day out. Then he would find some way to cheer him up. 

* * *

“You’ve been sorely missed, Sir.” Alfred said as he watched Dick nibble a cookie. 

Dick glanced up at him but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. To agree felt like he would be agreeing that Bruce had missed him. He didn’t know that he believed it.

Dick tensed as he felt the air currents in the kitchen shift. Someone was in the hallway, interrupting the draft that Alfred had always complained about but never allowed Bruce to fix. Dick secretly wondered if it was because It would alert Alfred to know when someone was about to enter the kitchen. 

Bruce leaned against the door frame rather than walk into the room properly. Dick wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge the man silently standing behind him, or wait. 

Dick hated waiting so he turned slowly. His hands had stopped shaking while he drank his tea, and he found himself relieved when they didn’t start again.

Bruce was looking at him with an odd expression. Dick wasn’t sure what to call it. It was almost  _ reverent _ . As if he thought that the second he looked away Dick would dissolve like a ghost.

“I trust Master Jason, is well and back to sleep?” Alfred said neatly as he picked up cups of tea and placed them in the wash bowl at the sink. 

“Yeah. he’s fine, You did a good job on the set.” Bruce nodded to Dick. “Fingers always give me trouble.”

Dick wasn’t sure how to respond so he just nodded, his eyes watching Bruce move slowly into the kitchen to stand by the island.

“Alfred would you mind giving us a minute?” Bruce said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

Alfred glanced at Dick. His gaze was heavy as if he was trying to memorize his face. Dick gave him a soft smile, but his mouth didn’t seem to be working. So it probably looked more like a grimace.

“I will endeavor to call you more often.” Alfred smiled at him.

Dick wasn’t sure if he would answer, but he nodded anyway. Most of Alfred’s calls and texts went ignored. Alfred was...  _ confusing _ . While he had checked on him, it always felt as if he was at arms length. So confused and tired, Dick tended to ignore the man. He did text him on holidays. 

Alfred let his hand trail over Dick’s shoulder blades as he went his fingers ghosting over the borrowed shirt. Dick felt an odd warmth creep into his limbs. Were he not so tense he might have leaned into the touch. 

While Alfred left the room it was clear from a nearby humming he hadn’t completely trusted the two to be alone. Bruce remained silent. He was looking at Dick with that odd expression still. 

Dick sighed. He didn’t want to be here, but now that he was, he was tired of waiting. He was forever waiting. Waiting for a phone call that would never come, waiting for a second shoe to drop, waiting for Bruce to just do  _ anything _ . “Look Bruce, I wouldn’t have come by if it wasn’t for Jason getting hurt and neither of you being available . I’ll make plans for somewhere else to hole up next time.”

Dick set down the half eaten cookie and began to stand. Bruce seemed to jump slightly. His eyes went wide the moment that Dick moved to go. 

“Dick, I want to say something. Something, I should have said a really long time ago.” Bruce’s eyes were oddly puffy. 

Dick wondered if he had been near a cat earlier. He never could remember to take his allergy medicine. Dick half opened his mouth to tease him, but slammed it back shut.

“Dick, what I said to you. It was wrong.” Bruce took a deep breath, “I never should have told you to leave, I was upset and scared--”

Dick opened his mouth angrily, all notions of humor evaporating from his mind. “What was I then?”

“-That doesn’t make it right or excuse me.” Bruce put up his hands and stepped back again. “I’m just explaining that I was upset and not…” Bruce looked around as if the kitchen would somehow supply him with words. 

“Yeah, because Clark tells me to get out when I get shot.” Dick spat venomously. 

Bruce looked as if he had but struck. His eyes were suddenly roaming Dick’s body as if looking for a bullet wound. “You’re right. It was  _ wrong _ . If I could go back and--Dick I didn’t mean it. I will  _ always  _ want you here.”

Dick sank back onto the stool again. He couldn’t understand what was happening, it was as if his reality was collapsing. The single truth that colored all his choices over the past year was being upturned. The fact that Bruce didn’t want him was what shaped his actions, his choices were all founded on that single reality. He moved to Bludhaven to prove himself. He had joined the police to show he could do the job of three men on his own. He had become Nightwing to throw in Bruce’s face that even if he took away Robin, he could start over and be just as good-- better than before. Hell Dick was even trying to be there for Jason, because  _ he  _ hadn’t had Bruce. 

Dick almost didn’t hear what Bruce said next, his mind was moving too fast and too slow all at once.

“I miss you. You are-- You are everything to me. I wake up and I wonder how you are. I eat breakfast and miss you making faces with your mouth full. I pass people in the street and think that they’re you.” Bruce’s voice cracked. “I am so glad you and Jason are both in this world, and I wish that--”

Dick must have looked unnerved because Bruce stopped talking and looked at him in alarm. 

“Dick?” Bruce started forward very slowly. 

“You told me to  _ leave  _ and never come back.” Dick meant to shout but the words came out a whisper. “You said you should have never made me Robin. But you didn’t. You didn’t make me  _ anything,  _ Bruce. I was Robin all on my own.”

Bruce stopped his advance. “Yes. You were.”

“You can’t just. It’s been over a year. I’m-- I don’t-- It’s just.” Dick couldn’t make the words make sense. How could he wrap up his feelings and present them to this man? This man that was so like the Bruce of his childhood. This man that was standing there with tears in his eyes. Dick wanted to hug him and make him stop crying. He never liked it when the man cried. But another part of him, the angry and hateful part, was rejoicing. Because just maybe he was hurting just as badly as Dick was, and wasn’t that a kind of justice. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Bruce said in a resigned sort of voice. 

“I don’t.” Dick whispered. “I don’t.” 

He felt as if his tight rope had been cut. He had been balancing his feelings for so long. And now the one thing that he had counted on,  _ trusted  _ to be true, was gone. There was nothing for him to walk on and as much as he might try, Dick Grayson couldn’t fly. 

Bruce flinched, but didn’t look away. “That’s okay.” He swallowed, “I’m still going to try and be better.”

Dick didn’t understand. What did that mean, to be better? Better for Jason? Bruce couldn’t mean  _ him  _ could he? Dick didn’t dare hope.

“You’re welcome in the cave and manor at  _ any  _ time.” 

Dick felt dizzy he was glad he was still sitting. 

Welcome was such an odd word. He needed to sort this out. Maybe he would call Wally. Wally would listen to him ramble. He was good at listening to nonsense and pulling out what Dick actually meant. Yeah that sounded like a good idea. He would go home and call Wally. 

Dick stood up and crossed the room. He came to a stop at the door realizing that Bruce was still standing there watching him and waiting.

“I’ll think about it.” The words felt odd on his tongue like milk unsticking peanut butter from the roof of his mouth.

` Bruce nodded. “I really am sorry, Chum”

Dick just walked. He walked out the kitchen and down the old hall. He didn’t want to deal with this. He was feeling far too many emotions for it to make sense. He wanted to scream at Bruce, he wanted to hit him, to hurt him as much as he had been hurt. But then another part of him-- a larger part then he would like to admit wanted to turn back towards the man that had raised him and just.. be hugged by him. 

But not today. 

Today Dick felt too much like Harvey Dent-- split right down the middle with opposing wishes. So Dick fled. He was back down the stone steps to the cave before he could even register the clock’s entrance. He was back on his bike and into the open air, before he could remember to change back into his uniform, before he could even think to don a mask. 

The Gotham night air was cold as it whipped against his borrowed clothes. Dick didn’t even feel the chill that left his skin in goosebumps. Dick was all the way back in Bludhaven and parked in the Nest before he could even understand what had happened. 

Bruce was  _ sorry _ . Bruce  _ wanted  _ him.  _ Bruce might have lied, _ a voice, that had taken root in his mind over the past year and a half, whispered. 

Dick shook his head.  _ No _ . Bruce was a bad liar. Brucie might have been good at it. Batman might have been excellent at it. But Bruce Wayne, the man behind both masks was not. At last not to Dick anyway. He had spent years watching the man, he knew when he was lying. He had been honest. Bruce was sorry. Bruce  _ wanted  _ him back. 

The real question, Dick supposed, was if he was ready or willing to let himself return?  _ Maybe. Maybe _ . Dick thought slowly.  _ But maybe just not _ yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY!!! This was not planned. The story took over and well....


End file.
